


Brewing Insidiousness

by oceansinmychest



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, One Shot, Plot Twist End???, Request Meme, Season/Series 05, Smut, Taunting, how dare they chew at each other like... animals., sick burns ft. sonia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansinmychest/pseuds/oceansinmychest
Summary: Paranoid and losing grip on things, Kaz Proctor confronts Sonia Stevens about the garden project. However, she finds the woman seemingly inebriated (a constructed ruse) and the confrontation leads into not a battle of wits, but a physicality. Who's playing who?





	Brewing Insidiousness

**Author's Note:**

> At last, a fic. I've been trying to find some balance with grad school. Finally had some time to bunker down and work on a prompt. I decided this would be a decent outlet for my agitation. The prompt was given to me over Twitter by @ImSoJessa as follows: Kaz comes in for an argument whilst Sonia is pissed on shampoo wine. Mocking Kaz between sips, Proctor gets worked up.
> 
> It gets heated.
> 
> Enjoy. xx

A bundle of high tension barrels down the prison halls. She's losing control of the woman very much like Wentworth's former governor. The fall from grace hurts as much as a broken wing, a broken arm. Fallen from their favor, Kaz Proctor clings to the only thing she knows: her self-righteous anger.

It seems that Sonia Stevens is _gaining_ favor in the prison with her dainty, little garden project. Kaz can't fathom how flowers win over murderers, addicts, and victims of a broken system. Maybe it reminds them of their life outside of the chainlink fence.

Kaz finds that she used to care more, but she's blind-sighted by the twelve years that hang over her head like a guillotine waiting to descend. With a clenched jaw and teeth grinding together, she makes her way to Stevens' respective unit.

Ready for a fight, full of tooth and nail, her free hand – her only good one – balls into a fist. She jerks her head back. Stands her ground in the doorway: the threshold of a den that leads to a beast of a different kind.

In the teal at last, it's by no means a Prada suit. Sonia Stevens crosses her legs, pretty and petite in the way she orchestrates herself. A hint of mirth embeds itself within her sparkling jade gaze. Rather than fixing herself a hot cuppa, she flicks her wrist. Reaches for the generic shampoo bottle that holds many an ounce of wine. From the looks of it, she's already indulged in quite a bit.

Irate, the toothless tiger works her jaw.

"Well, I much prefer a vintage Macallan. I suppose chardonnay will suffice," Sonia muses aloud.

She plays the game; she plays to win.

By choice, she ignores Kaz's simmering presence. Seated on her bed, as though it were a throne, she fills her mug to the brim. She raises a scrupulous brow. Rolls her head to the side. Purses her pouty lips. 

Assessing the damage, assessing the ruin of an angry woman hiding the trauma of a little girl.

She resembles an old Hollywood star, a queen of the silver screen.

"Do join me, Karen. Surely, you have much better things to do other than embark upon a social justice tirade."

A slender hand taps the vacant spot beside her. All confrontation, Kaz prefers to strike. She steps closer, taking the challenge, falling for the bait.

"Bloody oath. It's _Kaz_. I know what you're up to. If you think about vying for Top Dog, think again. Nothing but bloody tyrants here. We don't need more violence; we need camaraderie. **Respect**."

Paranoia makes her diamond eyes glitter. There's something so incredibly arousing about the fact; it's nearly as delicious as watching her husband die.

Sonia wets her lips. Sips her wine from her ceramic chalice.

"Never settle for being one of the herd. You know, that's what I quite admire about you."

Lazily, she wags a finger.

"If only I had more respect for you," Stevens taunts.

“Everything rolls off your back, yeah? You're toying with people and I won't tolerate that under my watch. It's time you learned a proper lesson.”

The travesty about Karen Proctor is that she's all bark, no bite. She puts on her airs. She screams loud and proud from her soapbox, but she's given up the physical correction – the proper leadership – that the woman need. With a stormy look, she scowls.

"My, my. Such aggression, Karen. You must find yourself a proper outlet. Perhaps knitting?"

The expression that the blonde musters is near comical. Sonia very nearly titters. Instead, she smirks. Stays frosty.

She pours herself another drink, eyes half-lidded. She dwells on the success of the garden project and how she seeks capital on it, similar to her cosmetic empire.

" _Karen_ , my **dear** , it takes a special sort of person to rise above the rest."

All this goading won't seem to end well. In mounting frustration, Kaz punches the wall with knuckles guaranteed to bruise. What's a little more pain?

“You've the fucking nerve to question my leadership?!”

Bickering leads to a rather heated exchange. Her lower jaw strikes out, mimicking a bulldog with a severe underbite. She leans forward, but doesn't go for the jugular as she should. Kaz invades Sonia's personal space in this perfectly impersonal place.

The matron issues a bemused sigh. She reaches out and leaves a brand upon Kaz's face – a light touch that burns hot with shame, a slap that ignites undying rage.

"I don't respond well to threats, darling," Sonia quips with a cheerful pat to the cheek.

The stinging shock of that viper's attack leaves Proctor stunned. Dazed and confused, she blinks. Tries to process the rapid turn of events.

"You're no coward, Kaz. I don't see you running with your tail tucked between your legs now, do I?"

"Oh, fuck off!"

"No, darling; I'd rather fuck _you_ ," she purrs lasciviously.

And that's the final straw, you see.

Anger wins out. Seeing red, she lunges. Digs the heel of her palm into a seemingly feeble woman's throat. This is not so; Sonia Stevens calculates every preceding move wisely. It's not the first time that she's exploited someone for desire's sake and it won't be the last.

"Oh, yes. There you go, darling," she rasps and wets her lips. Stevens has no reason to be afraid.

The mug goes clattering across the floor. Chardonnay's heady scent lingers in the air. Come morrow, Sonia will dismiss the smell and call it her newest perfume line.

Kaz falls pawn to the invisible plan. She fucks her, because she's so bloody frustrated by every damn thing. Her hand's replaced by her mouth, hot and sudden. Teeth leave an indent against the hollow of her throat. Salacious hunger, burning need, takes over.

Sonia chuckles hoarsely into the blonde's reddened ear. She drags her claws across the nape of her neck. Quid pro quo. Tit for tat. This for that. It's hardly a mutual exchange.

"I have needs. So do you. We'll make a night of it."

Proctor refuses to give her the satisfaction of a verbal response. Instead, she pops open the silken pajamas. A button hits the wall. The brunette quirks a brow. Karen will have to pay for the offense sooner or later.

A venomous kiss transpires, all swollen lips and the intrusion of a wicked tongue. With one good arm, the manipulations are a bit difficult to manage. She palms the soft swell of breasts. Kaz pinches, scratches, bites. Questing fingers delve lower. Yank down the waistband of silk panties.

She writhes and arches her back, using Proctor's wrath to her advantage.

Tingling warmth pools between her legs, a wetness that speaks to lust's particular mark. She runs her palms over Kaz's curved back and wraps her legs around that trim waist. Despite being on the bottom, she reigns from above.

Muted, Kaz growls. Feels the savage sting of nails shredding her back, scratching through the teal.

Her fingers find their way inside, pump and curl. The rest is history.

And so they fuck, but you needn't get the rest.

In a neighboring room, a solitary woman puts on the kettle. The pot begins to hiss and sing.

Joan Ferguson listens to them tear into one another like animals. Chewing at each other. It's despicable to cave into such based desires

She smirks when the pot begins to whistle, steam unfurling out of the spout. Everything builds up.

Like an insidious darkness that lingers, Joan waits for the opportune moment to strike.

Panting and restless, Sonia climaxes. Clenches around the tiger's paw. Kaz's arm is beyond sore, but she neglects her own needs to serve another. Retracts her fingers quickly. The scent of self-served sex infects the air.

Kaz chews on her own lip. Bites her tongue.

Sonia recovers beautifully. Lashes fluttering, mouth agape, she lets out a sonorous moan. Just like that, the transaction is over. Paid for. She slips on her robe and listens to Proctor's griping. Such a pity. She might have felt generous enough to _reciprocate_ had it not been for that.

"Ya sick cunt; you wanted this. You bloody well played me."

Incredulous, she blinks. A rapid response to signify her own undoing. It's her fault for being so fucking impulsive.

“Oh. Come now. There's no need to be _sore_ , darling.”

Kaz storms off, hunched shoulders and deflated ego. The cell door slams shut behind her.

Rather nonchalantly, Ferguson dips her tea bag into the mug of water. Ever the observant one, she steps out of the shadows, out of hiding.

"Tread carefully, Kaz. Stevens is a beast of another kind. Just because you fuck her doesn't mean you _know_ her."

A ghost of a smirk twists her lips upright.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Proctor freezes. Grows tense from the phantom threat that croons such a terrible rot. She shudders. Looks over her shoulder with a wounded expression. Her injured arm parallels Joan's hand that still wears the medical sleeve.

Some damages don't heal.

There's too much collateral.

Losing grip, Kaz stalks down the hall.

The loss is hers to lick.  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> It was my intention to focus less on the smut and more so the interactions. I aimed for something a bit more visceral. Ah, well. I dipped my toes into something new.


End file.
